Tell me She Said
by Roofran411
Summary: Petruchio has asked Kate to go down to Hazlington with him But she wants to know more about him than his debts


TELL ME SHE SAID

It is quite common for Earls to have a secondary minor title which the heir takes, and this I have put in to explain some things. Bullying etc. The names and places come from the BBC website. Petruchio is not said to have gone to university but I feel this is something his father would have wanted and indeed struggled to pay for his son _ and_ I think Kate could not have tolerated someone who was not as bright or educated as herself if not as politically astute or politically correct.

Rooftoppers will recognise Petruchio's birthday

The basis of all my stories comes from Will Shakespeare, with help from Sally Wainwright.

My thanks to both.

TELL ME SHE SAID

SATURDAY

I was hanging about outside Harry's place when this big silver Audi pulled up and the passenger door swung open.

'Morning.' she said.

Somehow I had expected a different sort of car, a Mini or a baby Nissan, not this big powerful beast of a car.

I looked in at her.

'Get in! I'm double parked and there's a warden just down the road.' I got in, she took off and I looked at her.

'Which way?' I was surprised that she asked, surprised that she didn't know. It was such a short time yet it seemed as though I had always known her that, she had always known me.

'Oh. Um. Straight out onto the M4, to the Oxford turn off.'

I turned sideways to look at her.

Just to look at her.

Did I expect some change or perhaps that I was mistaken somehow. No, she was the same. Such a little scrap. Tiny little hands on the big wheel, little feet in their polished loafers on the pedals, controlling this huge machine.

Her hair was down today, caught back in a band, long, down past her shoulder blades, dark, black, silky.

I wanted to stroke it, let it slip through my fingers.

We were out on the motorway and she put her foot down and did we shift!

She drove well, fast, confidently, authoritatively, reminding me that no matter how delicate and fragile, she might appear, she was an extremely intelligent tough woman.

We talked, about what, I really don't know, except I looked at her, watched her, and wanted to run the back of my hand up the back of her neck under her hair.

We came off the motorway; up through the Oxfordshire roads and I thought I try a little flirting.

No, it wasn't flirting. That implies a delicacy which this didn't have; it wasn't exactly _double entendre _but it certainly told her what I was thinking. The colour rose in her cheeks and she did something with her mouth.

God, her mouth. It was so inviting, it made me want so much, made me wanted to do so much, the very least of which was to kiss her, and the flicker in my groin became a throb. I leaned closer.

She moved, sat up a little straighter and said in a sharp tone,

'Will you let me drive?'

I knew she couldn't slap me, even if she wanted to, not while she was driving.

'Sor-ree' but she knew I wasn't and that I was laughing. The pink in her cheeks deepened and I was desperate to kiss her.

By-passing Oxford we took the Charlbury road gradually climbing into the Cotswolds with their bare winter fields, some still with patches of unthawed snow, their hedges glittering with this morning's frost.

'The next turning on the right, Hazlington village is about six miles on.'

Hazlington village is small, with a pub, a Spar cum Post office, the church and some cottages around one side of the green, the school and few more cottages on the second side and over the stream on the third side, there was the forge, the blacksmith long gone, which some enterprising 'arty' person had converted and was trying to run as an antique shop; some new houses had begun to creep beyond into the fields.

'Straight through the village, on for about a mile and a half, watch out for the turning to the house, on the left, then about another mile on.'

And there it was, the gates standing open as they have done ever since I can remember. The name- board "Hazlington Manor" leaning into the hedge, the drive neither long nor short, the rhododendrons and the hydrangea hedges overgrown, encroaching on the bumpy and potholed surface.

She parked the car where it widens for the house. The old man had put a padlocked wire fence across it. I got out and rummaged in my pockets for the keys.

I unlocked and shoved it open for her.

There it stood.

Three storied, rose red brick walls, timbered frame, latticed windows, lichened red roof tiles, barley sugar twist chimneys.

Hazlington, my home and my millstone.

And I went up the two worn shallow steps to the front door.

I turned the key, lifted and pushed the door at the same time as we have done for years, and unaccountably felt my eyes sting.

'I should sell it, if I had any sense I would, but I grew up here, my family have lived here for four hundred years. Seventeen generations. Whole feckless crew of them, each one more feckless than the other, I don't want to sell it.'

I showed her into the Lesser Hall, and opened a couple of shutters and the pale winter late morning light shone on the battered refectory table and benches, the tired old panelling and the portraits, dirty with age, of my ancestors.

My eyes pricked again.

I pushed through the tapestry curtain into the lower passage and opened the door into the Great Hall.

'We played football in here.'

I laughed, sort of.

'Once we kept pigs in here.'

'Pigs?' she said.

'Yeah, the old man had a win on the horses. He was plastered, bought these pigs. He had thought he would put them in one of the sheds but they were falling down, so he put them in here. Some money making scheme, don't know what, it never came off, think we ate them in the end.'

I shrugged.

She had sat down on one of the benches, watching me.

'I'm starving, fancy a takeaway? Indian, Chinese, pizza? You'd have to pay. Sod! The phone will be off!'

She took her hand out of her pocket and put a mobile on the table.

'Wonderful! You are a wonderful woman. Come through to the kitchen we'll have some menus there, unless the old man threw them out, but at least there'll be some telephone numbers.'

We went into the kitchen, found them and rang for a curry.

While we waited for them, I showed her the back rooms, the butler's pantry, hah! We haven't had a butler in my memory or my old man's. The housekeeper's room, the china pantry, the estate office , the gun room (empty) the boot room, all looking very sorry for themselves.

Back through the Great Hall to the breakfast room, the morning room, my old man's study, Granny's music room, Grandpa's library, the drawing room and back to the Lesser Hall.

'We'd better wait here, or we won't hear them. But remind me to look at the roof before we leave.'

She was looking at me with her enormous dark eyes. Big and wondering, like a child's except there was a sharp intelligence at the back of them.

'You told me about wanting to get married, about your problems. You haven't told me anything else.'

'What do you want to know?'

She shrugged.

'I don't know. Talk to me. Tell me whatever comes into your head. Why are we here?'

'Because I asked you. To come down to Hazlington. Why? I suppose it was to prove something. That I wasn't a fraudster, that there was a house, that I had something to offer you. That it wasn't all you giving and me taking.'

Days, hours ago, I wouldn't have cared. I had only thought as far as getting married, marrying for money but it's a different matter now. I 'm different now.

Up until a couple of months ago everything had been for fun. Well...

So, the businesses I was involved in went bust and I lost what money I had.

So, the tax man wanted his money.

So, I slipped off to Australia, to have some fun, some sea and sun and maybe earn some money to pay my taxes.

So, they slung me out because I had no work permit.

So, it was all fun... to laugh at.

Then while I was waiting for them to deport me, I got the message that my old man had died. He had been ill... I didn't know... he hadn't told me...and I didn't see him before him...'

Well best not to think of that, not now.

Think about that again...

'Anyway the big blow hit me when I got home.

The old man hadn't left any money. I knew things were tight but I had thought there would be some. There were taxes to pay on top of what I already owed, then there were death duties and the tax people were threatening bankruptcy court... to possess the house to pay for everything.'

Worst of all was realising that all the things I had always said... about not caring... about the house and family... Ancestry... was rubbish.

I did care, I cared very much.

If I didn't care...

.'If I had any sense I would sell it. I could sell it; pay the tax man off and still have money in my pocket, I wouldn't have to worry about this place ...and I'd still have the title.'

'The title' she said. 'You have a title?'

'Oh yes. Believe it or not, I am a Gentleman, a Peer of the Realm.

I am the 16th Earl of Charlbury, whether I like it or not and I'll be damned if I am going to be the one to lose it all.'

I sat at the table across from her and went on; looking down watching my fingers drawing patterns in the dust.

'I got slowly pissed on the flight home. It didn't help but through the alcoholic haze, I thought of my forebears and how they survived.

Most of them had married money.

Yeah, that made me laugh until I thought, well why not?

I was sober again when I arrived in London and although I had rejected it, the thought was still there in the back of my mind.

Then there was the funeral...and after... well, everything was just ...shit.

The old man's solicitor jokingly had the same thought after he had told me the full extent of the damage.'

"Well, you have to marry sometime, you need an heir if the name, if the title, is not going to die out. Is there anybody in particular? No, so why not marry money? It's what you forbears would have done"

'So I had a few whiskies and downloaded myself on Harry.

He had his own problems, didn't think much of my solution until something clicked with him and he had this sly smirk.

His woman's sister.'

"No!" he said "Don't go down there."

'And we sniggered and argued and boozed our way through a discussion on this.

After several hours of pointless argument which consisted of totally ignoring each other's viewpoint, we went to Bianca's party where we might or might not meet her sister. And although it was all a bit of a joke, there was that kernel of truth.

And I met her. You.

And I fell in love with you.

And asked you to marry me.

So here we are, sitting in this freezing cold house that possibly could be falling to bits, and even more likely be possessed by the Inland Revenue; waiting for a takeaway which may or may not find its way through the potholes of the drive... and you want to know about me.

I've told you all about the debts and the house and now you want to know all about me, which is harder.

Well what you see is what you get!

Piers...Or rather, Petruchio Isambard Edward Crick.

16th Earl of Charlbury, 17th Viscount Hazlington. born 29 October 1967, age 38, bachelor. 6 ft tall, weight ... I don't know..!2 stone something, black hair, green eyes.

Loud, noisy, argumentative, boisterous, talkative, hot tempered, exhibitionist, stony broke, hopeless with money, no job at present, not much in the way of prospects.'

_'Where did you go to school? '_

'Hazlington village school, Meadowbank Comp. Charlbury, 9 O levels... average grades except Eng lit. I wasn't interested, 3 A levels, better grades because I had to, to get into Uni , red brick Uni (Warwick) BA( Lit)2.2. Didn't work.

Didn't really want to go to Uni, not really bothered but the old man wanted it...it was a bit of a struggle for him, he sold some things, the horses, the guns a couple of Purdy's, a couple of paintings, for me to go..So... Would have been better if I had been a carpenter or plumber or something, then I could have done something about this place...Yeah, I enjoyed Uni, enjoyed the reading, the books, so on...had some good times, fun. Typical student, I suppose. Smoked, drank, did a bit of weed, slept around a bit... same as anyone else.

My mother? She buggered off. When? Oh, when I was six. Nope, never heard anything ... who gives a sod...What?..._ Siblings_ ?

You mean my mother might have...the thought never occurred to me. No... No one ever contacted...no! I don't think so. Nah!

No, the old man never married again. If there were women, I never knew. He never brought them here.

Granny died when I was eight and then there were the three of us till Grandpa died when I was twelve and the old man became the Earl and I became Viscount Hazlington.

Yeah, you're right; it _didn't go_ down well at school. They enjoyed_ that_. Certainly got picked on for that. Character building I suppose. Lasted until I was about fourteen and suddenly I was bigger than most and could take care of myself.

_'You mean thump them.'_

'Yeah, I suppose so, yeah.'

_'Did you have many friends?_'

Not until later. A bit way out here.

_'Must have been lonely ...when you were little.'_

'Yeah, I suppose so. Never thought about it. Had books ...and music. My old man took me everywhere with him when I was young. Racing...Studied form' (wry smile) 'but really that was the old man's love.

All the pursuits of the "_Aristocracy_".

Hunted a bit till I went off it. OH! Not from PC, loved the runs, jumps, the exhilaration but not the kill...sickened me. He took me ski-ing till we couldn't afford it. Learned to play cards, billiards. HAH! Sign of a misspent youth, isn't that what they say.

Learnt not to gamble, learnt that quite early on. My old man did... gamble.

Sailed a bit. The old man loved it and his boat, a Nicholson 38, till grandpa died. It had to go to help pay some of the death duties.

Things were tight when Grandpa was alive, keeping the house up and got even tighter after, but it always seemed like fun... The old man always made it seem like fun, though it probably wasn't, not for him. It bothered him that I was the first of the family not to go to Eton and Oxford, bothered him more than it bothered me.

Friends started to come when we could bike around. Fifteen, sixteen.'

_"What about girlfriends?"_

'Not really until sixth form, about eighteen, I suppose.'

"_What did you do after Uni?"_

Oh, bummed about a bit... some time as a stable lad, only way I could get a ride after the old man sold the horses. Did a few seasons as a ski instructor.

A few summers crewing on sailing holidays.

A couple of years in the City. God! I hated that, was useless.

Came into some money when I was 30 that Granny had left in trust. Not a great deal. Put it in couple of businesses which failed leaving me with debts up to my eyes and the Revenue after me.

Managed to pay most of them except the Revenue.

And then there were the death duties ...well you know the rest.

_"Have you ...you know ...lived with anyone?"_

Harry and I shared for a while at Uni... And after...

Oh! You mean a woman... God no... NO! Never met anyone I wanted to live with... always wanted to go home to my own place (gurgle of laughter) or wanted her to go. Nobody lasted, nobody I was interested in ...beyond the sex.

Till the other night...CLANG.

Till there was you.

Standing looking at me in the lift.

Hopping mad.

And I knew.

You were the one I had been waiting for.'

0 0 0 0 0


End file.
